swallowed down the liquor as Sophie answered Paulo’s question.
‘She does,’ Sophie said, and despite his best intentions not to delve further Matteo found himself asking Sophie a question.
‘Doing what?’
‘She’s a chambermaid.’ Paulo answered for his daughter. ‘Isn’t she, Sophie?’
‘Well, I guess it gives her access to a richer clientele.’ Matteo’s response was surly and, taking Shandy’s hand, he led her to the floor to dance.
He didn’t want to dance.
He just wanted to get away from the conversation.
Rome glittered beneath them. He could feel the pulse from the street below and the guarded Matteo suddenly wanted to escape the shackles and to shed his skin. He wanted to take a moped and explore the ancient, beautiful city. He wanted to ride high up and stare down at the ancient buildings and ruins, to drink cheap wine and be younger than his thirty years—only he wanted to do all of this with Bella.
Oh, he was dancing with the wrong woman tonight.
And every night since... He halted his thought process, for he never went back in his mind.
He just could not escape the truth today—for five years, long before Shandy, every night he had danced with the wrong woman and now, though his integrity at work was never in doubt, his reputation with women preceded him.
No, he could not escape the memories of them.
Matteo recalled Bella’s deep, slightly husky voice as she had told him about her favourite place in the world—a jewel deep in Bordo Del Cielo that he had never bothered to explore—the ancient baths that the Moors had built. She had told him how she would take herself off there at times and pretend that she had lived long ago, how she imagined the carved-out stone filled with spring waters and the sex and debauchery that must have gone on there.
Bella had played with his mind then and somehow she played with it even now.
‘I love Sophie’s dress...’
Matteo did not blink as Shandy pulled him out of introspection. Instead, he frowned at the intrusion as Shandy did what she did best—spent money in her head.
‘I want something similar,’ she explained. ‘I asked Sophie who made it. Gatti. She’s an emerging designer, apparently. I want to wear her before everyone else is. Tomorrow I want to see her studio...’
Studio?
Matteo’s teeth ground down.
More like a boudoir.
‘Let’s go.’
‘It’s too early,’ Shandy protested. ‘Anyway, I’m enjoying myself. You never said that it was Paulo Durante’s daughter that Luka was getting engaged to. I never thought we would be dining with such a high-profile criminal tonight. It’s exciting...’ Shandy said, and then dropped her voice. ‘A turn-on.’
‘Then you didn’t live through it,’ Matteo hissed, and dropped his arms. ‘We’re leaving now.’
He chose not to tell Shandy that Paulo was no big fish—the old man had been Malvolio’s puppet.
Malvolio had been the leader and had seen to it that Paulo had taken the fall for him.
And the reason they were here tonight was that Malvolio was Luka’s father.
Luka felt that he had a debt to pay and Sophie had called it in.
‘Thanks for this,’ Luka said, as he saw Matteo out. Shandy had gone to top up her make-up and the two men stood, uncomfortable with small talk.
Neither liked that their past was catching up with them.
They had made strong, good lives in London.
It felt strange to be back in Italy. Even Rome felt too close to Bordo Del Cielo tonight.
‘Will you let me know when the wedding is?’ Matteo’s voice was thick with sarcasm.
‘There will be no wedding,’ Luka said. ‘I just agreed to an engagement. You can surely see for yourself how sick he is. It’s a matter of days till all this is done and I can get back on with my life.’
‘Why are you going through with it?’ Matteo said. ‘You owe her nothing.’
‘I owe Paulo this,’ Luka corrected.
‘You owe that old fool nothing,’ Matteo insisted. Bile was churning and his venomous words were aimed at himself, because he had been but a day away from being Malvolio’s second man. ‘Sophie is just like Bella, both are up to no good. I’m telling you that she lies,’ Matteo said. ‘She’s not doing well, like she told you she was. That dress is not designer...’
‘Please.’ Luka shrugged. ‘I’m not like you, I don’t care for fashion and labels. You always were a dark, mistrusting bastard.’
‘A good-looking bastard, though,’ Shandy said as she returned. Matteo pulled on his jacket and checked his reflection in the mirror, and Luka gave a dry laugh.
‘Yes, Matteo, you look good,’ Luka said, and it was his turn to be sarcastic now.
Matteo and Shandy headed out to the street.
‘I like that you dress well,’ Shandy said, but her words simply irked.
Yes, he always had dressed better than the rest. His suits were the most expensive, his hair superbly cut, his stubble pure designer.
Bella Gatti knew why, though, for he had confided in her.
Never again.
His driver was waiting and opening the door but Matteo stood there in the street rather than getting in. ‘I think it might be good to walk...’
‘To walk?’ Shandy shuddered at the thought. ‘In these heels?’
‘No, I would like a walk alone,’ Matteo said. ‘It’s been a long time since I’ve been back in Italy.’
‘Well, it doesn’t suit you,’ Shandy said, because he had been at his brooding best since the plane had touched down. ‘Matteo, come to bed...’ Her mouth moved in to persuade him but he dodged his head back.
‘I’ll be in later.’
No apology, no excuses, he just walked off into the night.
And he did what he wanted.
Matteo bought a bottle of wine, and though the grapes were not from Bordo Del Cielo, they were from the west. He hired a moped and drove up, ever up, and then he parked it atop Capitoline Hill and stared down at the illuminated view and there, unlit, the lone horseman. But, though ancient and beautiful, it was the wrong view he gazed upon and, of course, there wasn’t Bella by his side.
He let himself remember, not all of
